Cold North
by TheSirenMonster
Summary: View the unknown life of The-Man-With-No-Name's before he became who he is, as he dwells to revisit his abuser once more and confront him. Story contains abuse, slash, yaoi and POV. (Blondie, Monco, Joe.)


**A story inspired by the Western series of "_For A Few Dollars More_," "_A Fistful Of Dollars_," and "_The Good_, _The Bad_, _and The Ugly_."  
**

**Also inspired by the song, "Save My Life," by _Xandria_.**

**Comments: **_My own take on what The-Man-With-No-Name's life was like before the series of his adventures in the West. Of course, this is definitely not the way he started life, so don't think this is legit. I'm pulling an American McGee here, twisting in dark intentions and cruel methods into the life of our favorite Western gunman._

* * *

I can't really say why he came in the sight of my Mind's Eye, but something deep down told me I had to go and see that evil bastard again.

After leaving that greasy crook, Tuco, in the midst of Sad Hill with his face practically smothered in gold coins, I left him on a "fairly" good note, after shooting him down the deadman's rope before he choked to death. I didn't exchange words with the sloth, but Tuco knew it would be the last time I would ever do the cutting, and he do the hanging. Whatever else the guy's planning to do with the gold, I didn't care.

I left on a head-start to go out and begin my old adventure I had held off doing for the last 3 years; I had to find my Master again.

* * *

Yeah, I know what you're thinking - me, The-Man-With-No-Name, had a Master to go see?

Well, ladies and gents, is it that seriously surprising to know that I would be ruled over by a much more powerful force? I always assumed that no one would seriously get the idea that I'm not a real loner, out here in the beautiful West. I was, you could say... "nurtured," by this unknown man, that raised me when I was very young.

I can't seriously pinpoint out the exact age when this man took me away. Perhaps 12? 13 or 14? Yeah, that seemed about right. Pretty young to be kidnapped, I know. He, my Master, took me away from it all, from my old hometown in Arizona. Everyone knew about the horrific tragedy of what had happened to my folks, that just shot a deep hole into my heart for as long as 12 years.

I'll try and sum it all up for you in a quick notion now - don't wanna really talk about too much details: My Dad wasn't right in the head. My Ma was always a good woman, always volunteering to help others.

One day, out of the blue, in the wildest audacity of his paranoiac state of mind, Dad brought out his shotgun and ran into the living room of my childhood home, and shot Mom right in the face while she was taking a nap in her easy chair. I was upstairs when it happened. Dad didn't know I was there. When Mom went limp, he turned the shotgun barrel onto himself, and blasted a giant hole straight through back of his throat. He died instantly.

After that, I was the kid being picked out by the town's perspective as the boy with murdered parents. A murder-suicide case that just had my beloved town go from sweet to sour in just a matter of one month. I was cursed, the eldest have told me under their breaths. It's my fate to forever be alone in this rotten world, they laughed or pitied me. It just made me sick to just look at all those hideous people that pointed me out as some freak. I knew fully well that I didn't deserve it at all. But still, they sat and mocked me with comfort and this so-called "friendship" they wanted to provide for me.

Why couldn't they tell that I wanted to just be left alone?

That was when I was visited by the town's preacher. He wanted to bless my house, to make sure that my dead folks' spirits be lifted to Heaven. I can't tell you enough how much I wanted to rip out that old runt's throat out for bringing much more unneeded attention upon me. Now I was seriously being seen as a fucked-up kid that needed Jesus or something religious to maintain my "tortured soul."

Gimme a break!

After the preacher wasted his time blessing my household, I quickly ushered the old fart out, and warned him to never show his face around my property again. That was a silent threat I gave him, and he knew fully well that it was. He was smart enough to not tarnish my name and tell a single soul about my promised words. I made sure I kept it, too.

The same night, when I was getting ready for bed, I asked God about something personal. At my bedside, I asked the Lord, 'why are you making me suffer?' I asked him for the awful truth so many time, it became countless. I blamed him for the loneliness. I blamed him for making my world flip upside-down for his entertainment. I implored for death to just take me away, too, so that I could be with my parents again. God, I missed them so much. It felt so damn hard with no one there to grow up with.

It must have only been a few hours of sleep when I was woken by the sound of someone in my bedroom. When I opened my eyes, I was met by a pair of big, bright yellow eyes in the dark. I thought it were a feline at first, but from the way those eyes didn't dilate as a cat's would, I knew it had to be a person right then and there. There was an odor in the air not familiar to my senses. It smelled of flowers, and then, the smell of cigar smoke filled my nostrils at the same time. A mixture of a Heavenly scent churned with the grotesque wiff of ashes made me almost want to either faint or vomit. It would be a damn sight to see me do both.

Once my vision began to form into the darkness sharply, I could see that it was a man. A tall man, as a matter of fact. He nearly stood as high as the bedroom door. He wore a black attire - not always something good for any cowboy to see. He had a long black coat on that touched down to the ankles of his leather boots. I could see how worn the jacket was from the bottom hem, how it seemed damaged and ragged. The rest looked solid and intimidating. I was just a boy then, and I was scared out of my mind to see a fucking stranger standing in my room and watching me sleep.

I didn't know whether to reach for my hidden pistol underneath my pillow. For all I knew, the stranger's hand was already on the grip of his own gun, and readied to fire at me had I made any sudden move. I was frozen where I was, just laying flat on my back, eyes wide open and staring right back at those yellow piercing eyes. I tried to think it was just a real bad dream, that all I needed to do was awaken. I just didn't know how.

"Wh-Who're... you?" I boldly stammered out, unable to contain much more of the silent tension in the room. I remained laying back, too scared to even flinch or blink. "What're you doing in my house?" I asked another question, supposedly thinking I could talk to the freak.

I expected to be shot at for speaking. But instead, I was met with a smile on the older man's face. It was a large smile, but not to where I felt it threatening. No. This smile was something extradordinarily kind. I sensed warmth from how his lips pressed together to form that smile, as I noticed almost slightly that his hardened features began to soften in the visible darkness. A flutter in my heart tips me to find solace in this moment of difference. I weakly smiled back, with a nervous laugh. Was that even a good idea to smile back at a total stranger? I didn't know, but from the way he chuckled along, I felt stupid.

"You're alone." The man suddenly spoke up, before taking a step forward. I held my breath for a few seconds, as my eyes watched him stroll carefully through my room. He didn't come near my bedside yet. He was quietly analyzing me, I could tell. "You've been robbed of a normal life, hadn't you?" His voice filled my ears. It was amply loud, but not as if he were yelling or shouting. His voice was very husky and low. Yet it had its smoothness. If I could use the proper word, it sounded authentic.

It calmed me down some, but not entirely to where I would keep my hand away from my pillow. I just watched the man, as he trailed his hand over the post of my bed-frame. His eyes fixed on me, but then I noticed how they shifted to my hand, that was resting upon my very pillow. I was sure to have it there, in case I needed to make a break for my pistol. He gazed back at me.

"Yeah," I decided to answer his twenty-questions. "Sure, I am." I shrugged tiredly. "What's new to hear?"

"They all speak of your parents'... passing." The man cautiously used the word lightly, I knew.

"Who are 'they?'" I blinked at him. He knitted his eyebrows together thoughtfully.

"People. Just people." His eyes and mine made contact for another time. It felt brief, but I could just see the pity he was most likely ready to give. I was already sick enough of people giving me the teary-eye bullshit. Even from a complete stranger that I just barely met, he had no right to make me another crybaby in the spotlight. "It must be hard for you, to always be reminded of your parents by the people of your town-"

"I don't give a fuck about people, Mister." I firmly stated with a blaze in my eyes. "They wouldn't understand the idea of losing loved ones in a... fucked-up way." I drifted at that point, shifting my eyes down to the floor. I woulda ranted more on death, but it felt unnecessary. I would just be going too far. "Whaddya want? To rob me? You can have most of my dead folks' things if ya want. They won't need it, and they know it." Again, he gave me that smile. I stopped talking at that point, relishing.

"What a strong person you've become." He complimented. I couldn't help but say how quaint he sounded. As intensely gay as that fucking sounded, the guy was attractive enough to make me admit it.

"I'm better off being alone." I said through a slight frown.

"You lie." The man suddenly corrected. I remember how my eyebrows raised high from silent shock. "You must be entirely depressed, after the downfall," the man begun to approach my bedside slowly, as he continued to speak to me with interest. "You're drenched in this dear darkness, aren't you? Trapped in an abyss you've been lowered down into with no questions asked. Settled into your own grave, it seems." He scanned his eyes over my face. "Do you wish for something more than this?" The man was standing at my bedside now, closer than I had expected him to be.

Plausible, because I woulda whipped out my loaded gun and shot him. Yet this nagging feeling in my chest told me to stay still and listen more. I didn't say much, yet I was mentally acknowledging his questions with my own answers. Yes, I was feeling like I was buried in my own grave. Yes, I felt like I deserved more than this. But what could this man seriously do to change it?

"I can provide you with so much more." The man's husky voice whispered to me now, softly as a bid farewell. "What if I could take you away from it all? Take you from what you hate in this life right now, and make you more than worthless?"

Well, jeez, didn't this guy just read me like an opened book. Was it that fucking obvious?

"... Could you?" I asked, also whispering.

"Yes. Without a doubt."

* * *

"Have you seen a man wearing black in these parts?" I asked the bartender in a local pub, in a new town I came upon. Not very new, since I had visited the area often in the past, but I was getting somewhere. "He's about yea-high," I rose my hand just a few inches higher from the top of my cranium, "wears black constantly; has a black hat that looks like its been in a house fire; and he's got big ol' yellow eyes?"

Of course, the bartender looked at me like I were crazy. "Ya drunk, or are ya lettin' the sunburst get to yer head?" He barked out a short laugh.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, with my teeth chomped down on my lit cigar between my lips. "I don't let anything get the best of me, stranger. I'm just asking if you've seen the sort of guy around these parts. Been looking for him for some time now..." I didn't seriously want to drag on the conversation. If he didn't have the appropriate answer I needed, then I wanted to move along fast.

"Well, actually, I think Marie has..." The bartender looked over to another bartender working her shift on serving drinks. She was a sweet Southern Belle, I could tell, just from the way her face was as pretty as a fresh daisy. She was quite the beaut. "Hey, Marie," The man called over the said woman. "You've seen that weird guy lately? The one wearing all black and got those big ol' eyes?"

"Oh, yeah, actually," Marie tossed a rag aside to grab an emptied glass from the counter-top. "Been about four days ago I last said hello to the man. Handsome feller, but those eyes gimme the heebie-jeebies." She made a delighted giggle.

"Is he still here in town?"

"Oh, no. He left this morning, actually, at the nick of dawn. Saw him leaving East."

And with that information heard, said and done, I got up fast from my barstool and started out the double-doors as fast as I could march. The two bartenders were left confused, seeing me sped off so suddenly. But they would make stories of it later.

Right then, I had to find the stupid fucker. Leaving for the East? I wouldn't know - or remember - what lies beyond the sunbaked sand there, but it was my new destination.

I was just surprised he didn't ironically choose to go North.

* * *

Why I would say irony in the term 'north' is because my Master's name _is_ North.

It was about 2 or 3 years under his wing. I was a kid, reaching my sweet 16. I wasn't seriously into celebrations, though. Never was. All I knew was that it was my birthday soon, and that I would most likely forget. I kept forgetting every year that my birthday was upcoming, just because I kept myself busy with gunslinging. North was showing me the ropes on being a proper gunslinger. How to be a real cowboy, you could technically say. I had no clue about the fact of being a man in the real world. All I knew was that I needed to kill for money.

And North was a damn professional at that. Every event of a murder planned out, North brought me along with him. He wanted to make me watch him finish a kill, that any man would hire him to do, in exchange for money. North was a hitman, doing his job as a great tracker on finding his targets and squeezing out information out of them before whacking them. Every event, I was there.

There was a definite difference in experience - those who witness death, and those who commit the murder. I only witnessed. The feeling of actually murdering someone for the first time would be exhilarating, but fucking scary.

"You call that a hit?" North mocked me, watching me scramble from the ground to my feet. "You have to hit like you mean it, Monco."

Before you ask - Monco is not my real name. I asked for an alias, and North goes with a nickname he had once gone by in the old town of Payne. His infamous name had been reaching through the desert like a dark cloud about to thunderbolt down onto innocents. Monco was suppose to mean, uh... something about a 'one-armed gun-wielder,' or whatever was so important about it. I didn't like it, of course. It sounded stupid. He woulda named me Joe and I wouldn't of minded.

In the courtyard behind an inn, North was showing me how to fight without a weapon. He told me that if I were to be smart with a gun, I'd best be smart with using my barehands in self-defense, close-cornering encounters and all that. The bastard was also good at fist-fighting, dammit. I needed to catch up to his own level to ever take him on properly.

Another flying fist, and he instantly dodged it with a quick side-step. He drew a balled fist back, and threw it out to aim for my gut. But this was an old trick I knew all too well, and I easily made him miss when I jumped back with one leap. I took the free seconds to make an attack, delivering a hard kick flat at North's ribs, forcing him backwards with a cough. I quickly ducked when North threw a punch, and tackled the older man down with all I had in me to throw him down to the dirt ground. And I actually did.

"Ahaha, Monco!" North bellowed out a laugh, the least upset that I had the upper-hand for the short minutes. "You're improving so fast! I'm impressed!" He laid there, as I had been straddling him for the entire time to laugh back at him in delight. "You're fast."

I shrugged, unable to help but feel endulged by my Master. "It's nothing."

"Not fast enough, though." He grinned evilly, and before I could react, he latched out a hand at my throat and flipped us over; he was on top now, and I was at the dirt on my back. "Never get cocky, Monco. You'll get karma." He warned, loosening his hold around my neck. He couldn't help but chuckle at my face, how flat-out defeated I looked when I realized that I had become too full of myself.

But I laughed along, brushing off the thought for the moment to look up at North.

North still looked the same, the first time we met. Young and roughly handsome. I assumed the years have shown kindness to his features. I was all but a boy still, so the weather meant diddly. I had begun to become a... little more observant of my Master's appearance. I use to not care, but then, as I became a teenager, worrying over emotions and looks, North had started to dawn on me more. How fucking handsome he was.

I was 16, remember, and finally at my age of discovering whether I enjoyed girls. But it's become evidentially clear that I was still in a deep stage of confusion. For some reason, I could find myself seriously endulged in girls. Yeah, I had my moments of flirting with a few, but then, I would find myself acting the same ways to boys. I knew for a fact that I wasn't completely flattered with men, but neither with women. Was it even possible to like both genders? I constantly pondered on the question, thinking I was sick and curious at the same time. I woulda asked North, but just held it off.

"Hey, Monco," North's voice woke me from my brief trance. His hand ruffled the top of my blonde hair. "You interested in anyone?"

I deadpanned at him. He must have been gifted with the ability to read minds or something wicked. Once again, I felt flushed. "I don't think so." I answered honestly.

"What does that mean?" He prodded.

I shyly pressed my lips together, unsure myself. I would have said no, but my brain told me otherwise. "I'm in a rut, North." I sighed heavily. "I'm 16-years-old and I've no clue whether or not I'm into anyone still... Is that weird?" I looked up to my Master, with some hope for an answer.

North was smiling down at me the entire time. It seemed different this time around, though. Instead of sensing genuine feelings, I could actually see something churn in his iris'. Something that looked absolutely pleased to hear me admit that I was sexually confused.

"It's completely normal, Monco. You're just a tad confused, but curious, at the same time. Those the same age as you would probably tell you the same issue, too." North petted my short, combed hair back. "It would just take a matter of time to figure out the problem, but don't fuss over it too much."

"Okay." I nodded, still looking up at him.

I hadn't even notice the change of movement in his hand; his second hand had been upon my stomach for some time now, fingertips caressing at the shirt buttons. I only begun to take notice when his first hand had begun to trail down from the top of my head towards the side of my face. He brushed his thumb against my cheek, drawing his face inches closer to mine. Not enough to close the gap between us, but enough to make me go into alert.

Quickly I used my hands to shove him off of me. "Next time, I'll win." I nervously laughed, wanting to feel oblivious to the sudden notion. I stood up fast, and dusted off my sleeves. "It's getting late out here... We should head in."

North was sitting on the ground, eyes glazed down to the dirt ground, head hung. God, did I make him miffed? I didn't mean to. He then looked back to me, and my heart sunk. A complete sight of hurt was written on his face. Rejection, it looked more like. I immediately regretted what I had done, wanting to say something to assure him. But, what could I seriously say?

"Yeah, sure." North pulled himself up to his feet, dusting his clothes off. He sounded quietly sad.

We headed back inside to eat supper the innkeepers were serving for the night to guests, and had been silent through the meal. I didn't eat much of the baked potatoes at the table, noticing how North was not really eating anything either. He just had a tall glass of alcohol in his hand, taking a few sips here and there, but the man mostly just held it in the wrap of his palm to feel the warmth of the drink.

I had finished eating for the night when the male innkeeper had brought inn vanilla crowns. I didn't like sweets much anyways. We both retired for the night to the shared room on the second floor. I was prepared to sleep soon, throwing off my vest and kicking off my boots. We had separate beds, thankfully, so sharing sleep wasn't going to be a serious issue.

"Good night, North," I quietly bidded, getting comfortable under my blankets.

"'Night." North yawned.

I thought it would seriously be the last thing he'd say for the night. I thought we'd both wake up in the midst of morning to restart on my training. I thought North would easily forget about the tiny problem from earlier.

But I was wrong.

It must have been just about 2 in the morning when I felt the side of my bed dip down from the weight of someone. I instinctly woke, my body making a small jolt to the rough touch of a hand traveling up my chest. I gasped out hard when the hand clamped down hard at my throat. My body was shoved down against the mattress firmly, pinning me down. My eyes were wide open then, looking straight up at the terror my heart had never once expected it to be.

"North," I choked out, staring up at him. "W-What're you doing?!"

"Hush." He hissed down at me, as he climbed up to properly straddle me. "Keep quiet, my boy." Both his hands were now on both my shoulders to prevent me from moving.

"North, quit it!" I shouted, fighting to get out from under him. I kicked, but my legs couldn't reach his. I forced my arms to start frailing as much as they could, but he was stronger. "Whaddya doing? Stop it!"

"Hush!" He suddenly snapped at me, smacking me across the face. I froze, utterly paralyzed as to what just happened. North never struck me like that. "Stop struggling and do as I say." And with that, North began to start to undo the front of my shirt buttons. Panicked, I struggled underneath of him again, trying to roll around side-to-side to make him lose his grip on me, but he just became furious. "Fucking stop!" He screamed, slamming his knee into my stomach.

I coughed out, feeling the wind knocked right out of me.

"Keep yourself quiet, you ungrateful child." He tugged out the last button and forced the front of my shirt-flaps open. He tugged hard enough to almost rip at the fabric. I swore I heard a tear. I tried to say something - anything - but North would hit me again. "You know what this is." He whispered into my ear, in a lewd voice. I felt a chill down my spine from his breath. "Don't play dumb with me."

I shook my head, heart pounding out of my chest. "North, please don't...!" I wanted to be in denial.

"I hadn't felt so rejected before in my whole life! And you... You had made me feel like complete shit!" He started grabbing at the hem of my pants, breaching them as much as he could. "It would have been so easy to give yourself to me, you know." He gave me an icy stare.

I trusted him. Every little bit of my form would have died for this man, that brought me out of the dark. And he shames me.

"North-!" I burst out crying. "God, no - please, God no!"

He ignored my pleads now, grabbing me by the top of my head, yanking a fistful of my hair and pulls me up. He brought my face to his, staring straight through me now. Those golden eyes pierced through my soul like a blade. Then he slammed our lips together hard, enough to make our teeth clank against each other. He was practically mauling at my lips, in dominance to overpower me. I could feel his tongue thrust into my mouth, making me yelp out to the new sensation. My feet began to stop moving, engrossed by this violation. I think I began to actually enjoy the attention.

"Tell me the truth," North demanded in a snarl. "Tell me you want me, you fucking slut." A pit of guilt and shame settled into my stomach.

Of course I loved him, but not to where it would all come down to this. "I care about you, North..."

"Fucking lying queer!" North drilled his fist down at my chest, making me gasped out with a forced cough. "I know you want me, you little shit!" I should have lied to get out of there, but I couldn't. He had a bullshit detector good enough to know that I was full of it. So I just laid there like a fucking douche bag and said absolutely nothing to satisfy him. It just earned me a slap in the face, and another pull at my hair. I could feel my pants being stripped off, how his fingers molested me, and how he...

I felt like throwing up. I would have just wanted him to shoot me afterwards, to make the disgust go away. It hurt so much the first moments. He would have shoved a knife up my ass an it would be no different. Those sounds of moans and sighs filled my ears, haunting me to this day.

But then, he found that fucking spot in me that made bolts of lightening explode through out my senses. A prostate, they call it. When I gave that first sound of a pleasurable cry, North grinned so wickedly at me. He began to really fuck me now, to where he hit that spot in me repetively, and I made those shameful noises he was trying so hard to draw out of me. God, it was wrong, but it felt so fucking good at the same time. I had never felt so damn vile in my whole life. I was worse then to just think of how disgusted my parents would be of me. I wanted to cry.

"Why're you doing this?" I gasped out.

"Because you're a fucking fairy, you little runt." He yanked at my hair once, before smoothing down his hand to my throat. "I'm going to fucking rip your throat out-!" He gripped his fingers around my neck, pressing his thumb at an artery firmly. "You tell anyone, _any_-fucking-_one_, about this, and I swear, I will kill you personally." He made a sharp thrust into me, that was a blend of pain and pleasure. "This town knows about your past, too, Monco. Who would you think they'd believe, eh? The adult or the fucked-up kid?"

Oh God, the fucking betrayal that stabbed through my heart.

When he finished, I was left on that bed to drown. He left the room for the night, either pretending or actually staying away for the moment. I finally threw up on the floor, puking out my dinner. I cried hard, just realizing how I watched my whole world crash before my very eyes.

The man I loved raped me.

* * *

"Just about 10 more miles from these parts, boy."

I had occassionally stopped here and there to grab some information from drifters in the desert. Most of these foreign faces were new in these parts, bustling or walking slow through the roads with donkeys pulling on a wagon full of valuables. Some just travelled light, only on horseback. I was very quiet throughout the march to the old town North could be at.

The roads looked unfamiliar to my memories, so this was likely a new destination he chose. Many of the drifters had been at this town. They didn't know the name, but they were grateful enough to have stumbled upon it and refill their water jugs for their travels. I tipped my hat to their generous information, and rode off to the said town with no name.

I wanted to see North again. I hadn't spoken a word to the man since 3 years ago. I wouldn't know what drew me to him again. I found hatred to give to him, yet I would have liked to embrace him once more. Tell him something important, I think, but I didn't know what to say to the swine. I hate him? I wanted him dead? He should go to Hell? My mind was always unsure of choosing.

I just needed to see his face one more time. Just one more.

"Just one more time." I told myself, as my mare trotted off to the distance.

* * *

From the time North had molested me, he swore it was all because of drinking. He repeatedly told me that it was the alcohol to blame for his actions, wanting me to forgive him right away.

I wanted nothing more than to just backhand him and tell him that our partnership was over, that I'd be better off dead than return. I wanted so much to just jump up on my horse and ride away, to never come back.

But, instead, I accepted his fucking plea. I wanted to accept denial so much at that point.

What an idiot I've become. The abuse only got worse.

I guess I knew what housewives went through, whenever they would accuse their spouse of abuse. No man would believe a woman when she says that, thinking she was being overdramatic and selfish. But now that I was experiencing the abuse first-hand, I realized just how right those women were. I couldn't be more wrong.

Shit. Fucking shit. This wasn't suppose to happen. The abuse worsen, the more I stayed and longed for North. He begun to take a liking on pulling at my hair, dragging me around like that if I didn't obey quick enough. I'm surprised I never went bald that way, counting how many times he yanked at my short hair. He would love to wrap his hand around my throat and squeeze, pressing down on my blood pulses to see me go limp for a momentary second, before smacking me awake. He beat me up, molested the shit out of me, and would continue on with his horrible ways.

Yet I wanted denial. I wanted to remain in a never-ending fantasy. I was very naive, to think that he loved me back.

"Such a handsome man! Do you see him, Mina?"

I couldn't help but overhear a conversation going on between two young women off from the stoop. I was sitting in a chair, outside a new inn, in a new town. I just didn't feel up to drink tonight, knowing North would be indoors and binging on the alcohol more than me. I wanted to just sit outside and smoke my cigar. I begun to take a liking to smoking lately, keeping a stash of fresh cigars in my breast-pocket every outing. It was what soothed me from thinking too much on the negative thoughts in my mind. When I smoked, it felt at ease, you could say.

The two women excitedly waved hello at me, and I made a friendly smile back, also waving. Even if they were cheery as Hell to get a response out of me, I still wasn't up for speaking to people yet. Fortunately, the ladies didn't approach me, leaving in a hurry back to a saloon across the way.

I just remained at my chair, enduring the cool air of nighttime ready to settle into the heat. I was glad to be out of North's hair for the while, but wondered when he would be out again. He would usually spend countless hours in a bar, 'till he got so drunk I had to walk him home.

Why was I so fucking whipped?

"Ey, _muchacho_," A foreign man's voice wandered into my ears, as heavy footsteps ventured towards me. I took my eyes off of the sunset long enough to turn and see that there was an older Hispanic man before me. "You got my chair."

I rose my eyebrows at him. "And?"

"Get off of it." He said simply, but firmly.

"There's plenty of chairs around." I crossed my legs, making it obvious that I wouldn't be moving too soon. "'Sides, you were sitting in the bar for hours."

The Mexican was not liking my attitude, of course. He was snarling now. I glanced up at him for a moment, my gaze meeting his for a fleeting moment. Yeah, he was drunk, I could tell. He seemed out of it, like he had too many drinks in just a few hours. The smell of booze and piss made me want to barf. I just turned my head from the man and kept my eyes on the setting sun.

"Listen here, ya sawed-off runt," The man suddenly grabbed at my vest collar and jerked me up with force. Now I was standing. He and I were the same height. "Ya respect your elders, else you be getting a whipping to get your act together." His dark eyes were unreadable, yet I found his threat as empty as a flower-pot. I made no sign of fear or reaction. I just deadpanned at him mostly, cigar still between my lips. A whipping? If he only knew...

"Sure." I nonchalantly glanced down at my chair. "Your name's not on it." I decided to be a brat.

"Fucking _idiota_," the drunken man lastly said, before shoving me down back into the chair. He wasn't fit to fight, and he knew it. If he had a gun on his person, he woulda been shooting air rather than aiming directly at me. He then just stumbled down the stoop steps and started off elsewhere. Fuck if I knew where he went.

I didn't know how much longer I sat outside, but, I was sitting there until I nodded off. When I came to, I found North standing over me.

"Wakey-wakey," He grinned wickedly, before slamming his hand down at my chest, grabbing at the front of my shirt in a fist. He pulled me up from the chair and started dragging me off of the porch, down the stoop steps, and started off towards a direction not trailing to the current inn we were staying at. I thought at first that he forgot the way to the inn, until he looked over his shoulder at me. "You had fun talking to the Spanish man, whore?" He tugged hard at my shirt, still marching.

I made a mental face-palm. I forgot how much North hated me talking to others. Men, especially.

"It was nothing, North." I boldly stated, trying my best not to trip over my own feet. "He was bitching about me taking his easy chair."

"I know." North simply responds to that.

My stomach dropped. "Where're we going?" I begged dully, seeing that we were heading to the outskirts of town, towards a barn in the dark.

There was a full moon out at the time, I remember. It was a bright, reddish-gold in the black sky. The air was cool, but not even close to Northern winds that would send chills through my spine. Right now, North was sending shock-waves through my body, heart-thumping hard against my chest.

North didn't say anything the entire time he dragged me out to the back of the barn. The building inside was emptied of no livestock, abandoned eons ago.

I remember how he took me by my shoulders and threw me at the barn wall, my back colliding with a horizontal wooden beam hard enough to make me yelp out in pain. He slammed me back against the wall with a hand at my hair again, gripping a fistful in a vice. I struggled, but not enough.

"This is for talking without my permission." He drew my head forward from the wall, and slammed it back as hard as he could. I heard the wood crackled behind my head, and my vision going blank. Bursts of black flowers were blooming at the back of my eyes as I stared wearily at North, before finding myself passing out.

It didn't take long to wake me up, with a backhand-slap to the face. I saw that I was tied up against the wall, with ropes at my wrists and waist. My hat was missing from my head, and the scarf I wore religiously around my neck had disappeared. But North was still there, right in front of me, lighting up a new cigar between his lips with a match. He puffed out smoke when it was properly lit, and lifted his head up to look at me, with a pleased expression.

My eyes trailed down to his gun-belt, seeing that the holster had his gun. I thought about it, and wanted to ask, "are you gonna kill me, North?" He still stared at me coldly, letting out another puff of smoke.

Those eyes always made me cringe. "Not yet." He answered me without a smack. "We're gonna have fun." And that was when I saw his eyes draw down to my neck, studying the column there for a good moment. He took the cigar out from between his lips and inspected the cancer-stick for a moment, before taking a step closer to me. I thought at first he was going to put it out on my face, but he shocked me when he pressed the flame right at the apple of my throat.

I remember screaming out to the pain, tears prickling at my eyes. He slapped his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries. When he drew back the stoogie, it was still lit. He happily took another drag, watching my face twist in pain. That mark is still on my neck to this day. I always wore something around my neck to prevent anyone from seeing it. It left a reminder.

"Never your face." He patted the side of my head. Before slamming his knee into my stomach. "But you still get a fucking beating for earlier." I stared in stark silence as I watched my Master pull something long out of his boot. It was a leather whip.

My face went white. "N-North, please-!" I begged, my breathing quickening. "Please, don't do this! I promise, I won't talk to people ever aga-!"

The first whip sliced at my chest, ripping through my shirt. I let out a shout, body literally shaking like a seizure. Another lash at my stomach, and I screamed out to the pain. North whipped me at my chest and stomach hard, with every lash feeling like a cut. I knew I was drawing blood, the pain exploding throughout my body like nails being driven into me.

After how many whips he delivered onto me, North was in front of me, wrapping the whip around my neck, and started tightening the leather against my throat. He put me into a vice grip, forcing me to let out strangled wheezes and chokes. When the second tightening happened, my face was going red from suffocation. I was staring into his eyes the entire time. Something in those eyes spoke of something deep and vile to me, like the pit of hatred. Yet I could sense something horribly unique as well. Was it...? I felt something mentally burst inside of me. If he were to kill me here and now...

"That's enough fun!" North retched the whip from my neck, freeing me from the choke. I gasped out desperately, my chest heaving and body trembling, greedily gulping down as much air as possible. I coughed hard, letting out a cry. Tears trickled down my reddening cheeks. I felt a burning forming around my throat. "You didn't pass out this time! Good boy!"

"F... Fuck you." I struggled out, giving him a furious glare. "Got to Hell."

"Oh, sorry, what was that?" He dared me to speak up. "What did you say, my little gunslinger?"

"I said..." I wanted to repeat what I had clearly stated before, but then, a ball of fire pooled in my stomach. "... I said... I loved you once. I thought I could trust you with all my life. But you fucked up. You fucked me over." I would have said more, to stand up and be a man to him, but I was scared. Too scared for much more. "Just make it stop..." I breathed out sadly. "Just..."

"My poor baby." He stroked a thumb at my bruising neck gently. "You will always be my baby, won't you? Be good to me now, my love."

Love. How sick of him to use that forbidden word in such a way.

I heard a gun cock back. My heart nearly skipped a beat when I made a hitch in my ragged breathing. I felt the metal of a pistol's barrel pressed hard at my slashed stomach. North was closer now, pressing his chest into mine. He brushed his lips against mine, but didn't kiss me. He stared longingly into my eyes, with emotions churning in a bottled rage. I had the strongest feeling that he would shoot me in the stomach. I waited for it.

But, no, he didn't fucking pull the trigger. He was just taunting me. He chuckled lowly at my face, brushing his freehand over my sweaty face, wiping at the collected sweat at my brow. He continued pressing the barrel at my belly, while using unnaturally skillful fingers to undo my trousers. I began to sob to the stinging pain of the metal digging into my lacerations, cursing at myself for showing weakness.

"Oh," North grabbed at my jaw to force my face to his. "You don't like that?" He asked dully, kneading his fingers at my purpling neck. I immediately shook my head to answer him, wincing. "Or, do you just not like me?" He dared to answer. I couldn't answer him that. I never could.

Behind that barn, in the dead of night, I guess you could say my Master made love to me right there. He kept me at the wall, literally plowing into me, as I disgracefully let him dominate me once more. He had that gun pressed at my belly the entire time, but his finger wasn't on the trigger anymore. Instead, it was wrapped around the handle of the firearm, as he used his other arm to hoist up my leg to ram himself into me.

He kissed at my neck and rubbed his face against my chest like a lover would. I tried to imagine he was someone else, anyone... But no mattered how hard I tried, I would just see his face. Especially when he smashed our lips together, and our tongues eagerly played with each other. I made those noises he wanted out of me. I begged him to fuck me, God fucking dammit. My moans soon sounded like desperate sobs. No one made me feel that way.

North found it amusing to see me all tied up like that, deciding how funny it would be to just leave me out there for hours to stand there until I became weak. I think I was out there for hours, just waiting to be humiliated by anyone passing by. The whip marks at my torso were starting to dry, but they were still stinging. I was sure that my bruises along my neck would heal, but leave a much more hideous reminder of that night. I was sure that I would need more than my scarf to hide the dark marks.

Yes, I was going limp. My legs were beginning to go soft and buckle, yet I tried thinking of something else other than the numbing pain in my joints. I tried thinking back to my parents' faces, when things were still fine. I thought of their darling faces. I thought of how Father looked so happy to see and be with Mother everyday. Mother loved him just as much.

'I know I'm not perfect, but your Mom never refused me. She loves me, and I love her.'

If only I knew the meaning of l-o-v-e.

I begun to pull weakly at the ropes around my wrist, mostly testing to see how tight they were. Pretty tight. I let out a tired sigh. Of course they were. If North were to leave out here until dawn, then I'd be too frail to even fight back. How he would take advantage of me again. "You won't help." I quietly said to the night, dim sky, staring at a million stars that looked back at me. I was speaking to God. "I asked for a reason as to why you make suffer all those years ago, and this is how you answer me?" I scoffed hard, shaking my head. "'Turn to God when you need guidance,' my fucking ass. I've no one here. No one!" I breathed in, coughing hard after exhaling. "Fucking... Fuck!" I grunted angrily at myself. I despised myself for being weak.

Perhaps I was going delusional from the pain that begun to grow numb in my body, but something woke within.

I began to go rampant on the ropes around my wrists, wildly yanking at my hands to break free from the hold. I gritted my teeth together, forcing all the strength within my mind to find my arms, and fight out of this prison. I squeezed my eyes shut when I felt my right-hand begin to ache, while my left-hand wasn't in any better state. Yet I continued to forcably rip out from the ropes, wailing as I did, feeling the texture digging into my skin, rubbing and cutting roughly and making my wrists redden deeply. But I told myself to just shut up with those thoughts and continue with the struggle, panting as I continued on.

_'Would you like me to continue this vicious cycle?'_ I asked myself, just sneering at a mental reflection of my cowardly-self staring back at me with fear. _'Would you want me dead before I could kill him instead?'_ I gasped out, feeling a sudden pull at my right-wrist. _'I'm not going to sit here and let those wretched fools laugh at me. I'm not a fucked-up person!'_ I clenched my right-hand into a fist, straining aloud as I began yanking and pulling. _'No one could understand. No one understands the idea of blame! No one! Just me...'_ My wrist began to feel the pressure, feeling like I was literally pulling off my arm. _'Just think...! No one would believe me. Not even that oaf in the skies that everyone praises so gratefully... for nothing!'_ Tears poured down my cheeks. _**'Except me!'**_

I roared out when I finally ripped my wrist out of the rope's wrap. It was red from irritation, skin looking a dab stretched, blood surfacing underneath of my flesh, ready to just burst at anytime. I gasped out, eyes wide, fingers tingling as if they were ready to explode from the reddening nails.

My hand was purpling, but I made myself ignore the dulling pain. I used it to untie the other rope around my left-hand, and sobbed out when I had undone the rope around my waist, smiling for the first time.

I was fucking free...

My legs collasped to the ground, in sheer joy to bend and relax from the never-ending standoff. I panted, now feeling the numbness slowly cease to a tingling sensation that either made me want to laugh or cry. I sat there for a moment, grinning at myself for the escape. I took my eyes off the ground and looked to the sky. Still dark out, so enough time to get the fuck out of there.

I pulled myself back up to my weary feet and started off stumbling to the face of the small town to find a horse. I didn't care what horse - just one that could get me out of there. Businesses were closed, from the way their lights were out and signs on the front doors indicated shutdown. Only the bar was alive. I would be smart to avoid that area, and just go along the shadows. I combed through the darkness to find a horse, in a paranoid state of avoiding any bystander that would spot me. If I were to be noticed, they'd get the Doctor on me. And then North...

Along the stealth of an old barber shop, I stumbled onto the porch to duck down from a couple walking pass, speaking to each other in their foreign language. Once they went their way, I looked around to see if there were anyone else that would come about. No, nothing. I lept off the porch over the wooden rail and ran around the shop, to the backyard, where I knew the owner's horse was settled at. My wrist was pulsing, sending small stings up my forearm, but I wanted to get out of there before worrying about the horrible condition my wrist was most likely in.

Behind the shop, I found the said horse indeed. But before I could get to the steed, I saw a clothes-line. Clothes were hanging about, drying off. They were dried enough to be taken off the line now. I immediately went to it and snagged off a fresh button-shirt and a black scarf. I ripped off my old shirt and threw on the new one. I tied the scarf around my neck, snugged as a rug. It did well to hide my bruises and blister.

"C'mon, old boy," I untied the horse from its post and quickly climbed up to its saddled back. The steed didn't struggle, following its order as I made it start off towards the opening of a dark desert ahead. "We're getting the fuck outta here."

And that was the last time I saw North.

* * *

**Comments: **_This is not the end of the tale! Another chapter will be updated soon! I hope you enjoyed the twisted read! :)_


End file.
